Live Once Again
by skyleopardess
Summary: A piece exploring the relationship between Hinamori and Hitsugaya. Includes speculation about Hitsugaya's past and his motivation to become a Shinigami. May get angsty.
1. Prologue

Dislaimer: I do not own any Bleach characters. They are the rightful property of Kubo Taito.**  
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**Live Once Again **

**Prologue: Turning Point  
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Rain, again.

It never seems to stop. The gloomy clouds in the sky seem to reflect my mood and the splatter of the raindrops feed my annoyance as they become frequent. Even under the protection of the leaves, I can still feel the occasional cool wetness on my skin.

I hate it.

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Footsteps. 

My ears follow the faint sound as it nears. It's Hinamori. I guess classes ended for the day.

"Shiro-chan!" She called. I told her not to call me that but she got into the habit and now can't get out of it.

I reluctantly leave my comfortable seat in the nook of the branches and jump down to meet her. The rain has gotten worse, escalating from a light drizzle to a summer shower. Hinamori's hair is dripping with wet droplets of water. It seems she forgot to bring an umbrella again. Typical.

"Shiro-chan! I brought some snacks from Seireitei for you! You said you liked these, right? Heehee!" She gave me a big smile and started rumbling through her bag.

"Idiot, look! You're soaked! What are you gonna do if you catch a cold again! You said you're already behind in class, right?" I half-dragged her into my house and threw her a dry cloth.

"Oh, it's okay! It's summer and only idiots catch colds in summer!"**(1) **She said sheepishly while drying off her hair. "Here! Have some confeito!"**(2)**

I took the small blue candy from her palm and savored the sweetness as it melted in my mouth.

"So Shiro-chan, have you been lonely without me?" Hinamori asked innocently. Even though I knew she meant no harm, I couldn't help but look away. "Ah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…"

"Don't worry about it… We can't revive the dead." I said solemnly.

I walked to the doorway and stared out into the rain. The sweet flavor of the confeito was not gone and was replaced by a bitter aftertaste. I couldn't help but think of the past 50 years I've lived in Rukongai and another 10 in the human world. I bring my hands up to eye level and stared at cracks in my skin. Life must be like that, so many paths going in different directions but lead to nowhere. But the few deep cracks leave a lasting impression. Perhaps it was time to take the first step.

"Hinamori…" I broke the uncomfortable silence. "俺は死神になる。"**(3)**

"Shi…ro-chan…?"

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1. There's a saying in Japan that only idiots catch summer colds.  
2. Confeito is a Japanese confectionary. It's like a sweet starchy candy that comes in different colors.  
3. Translated: I'm going to become a Shinigami. 


	2. Chapter 1

Dislaimer: I do not own any Bleach characters. They are the rightful property of Kubo Taito.

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**Live Once Again  
Chapter 1: Like Yesterday, That Which Lingers and Fades**

I never expected much from my life when I was alive. Ever since I was born, I've been told, or rather, the feeling was always around me, that my life was never meant for great things. And I accepted that.

Since I was conscious of my being, I was made to run errands for the house my mother worked at. Fetching tea leaves from the store, or buying incense for the night's business -- whatever it was, I was made to do it. It wasn't because I was paid to be an errand boy -- I wasn't --, it just was the way my life was.

I didn't understand it until a few years ago -- what my mother does for a living, that is -- and how that had anything to do with me and how my life came to be. She was a prostitute in the red-light district of Shimabara in the heart of thriving Kyoto. No, if you're thinking of geisha, you're wrong. My mother's job was not as dignified. She was a prostitute, a woman who lets a stranger do as he pleases for mere change. And I was her son.

What was harder for me to understand, each time I was told by the other women who worked in the same house as Mother, was how I came to be. I never knew my father, nor was he ever talked about. I gather Mother doesn't know his name either. It was taboo for a prostitute woman to conceive a child, more for practical reasons, I presume. But somehow, Mother had me. I was the only male in that house, for that reason, though that doesn't make me special. Mother barely made enough to not have herself kicked out by the house, which meant that I had to work to fill my stomach each day. No, it can't be called voluntary labor, it was more like indentured servitude, or even, slavery. Sometimes I wondered what will become of me when I become an adult.

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Though it might not seem like it, I loved Mother. After all, she was the woman who gave birth to me. You might call it an innate sense of affinity to the one who gave me life. Either way, I loved Mother. And though she never really did anything for me, I still felt lucky I had someone like her. To me, a blood relative, even though she would only glance at me when she felt like it, meant so much more than did the daily mundane routine that conveyed my life. I think just having the courage to give birth to someone is an amazing thing. Thus, I could never bring myself to ask more from her than what she has already done for me.

That's why I did what I did, the thing that eventually led to my death. You're probably surprised I can talk about it like yesterday's news but you have to realize I've been "alive" for several decades now. Reflecting on my human life is nothing but reminiscence. A thing like death… doesn't mean much to someone no longer among the living.

Author's Note: I suck at updating; so I apologize for that. Also, I haven't worked out the kinks of this story yet so chapters may get edited in the future.


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